


Lost Boy

by EquusGirl0621



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, Irene Being a Mother, Nero Uses Peter Pan to Make Sense of His Reality, Other, Parent!lock, Parent-Child Relationship, Peter Pan References, Sherlock is in denial, Sick!Nero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquusGirl0621/pseuds/EquusGirl0621
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nero is terminal and Irene is left to deal with him while Sherlock is deeply in denial. The two have an interesting conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...I was trying to sleep and this angsty little thought bunny popped into my head last night. It wouldn't stop and this ficlet is the result. I did not tag it as Major Character Death because Nero doesn't die. Yet. Sorry guys, blame the muse. I know I should really be working on my other things but this is the first time I've been able to actually write something. We'll just say this is a warm up of sorts.
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta, [of_dreamers_and_detectives](http://archiveofourown.org/users/of_dreamers_and_detectives/pseuds/of_dreamers_and_detectives). I sent her something loosely resembling a written story at 2AM last night and she helped me refine it into the work you're about to read. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it! I'd love to hear any thoughts you may have on it; this is my first time publishing Parent!lock and Nero so I'm a little nervous about it. Especially considering the subject matter. So I'd love comments or you can contact me on [Tumblr](http://equusgirl.tumblr.com/).

Irene sat in the rocking chair next to Nero’s bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, the beeping of the heart monitor a monotonous and morose background noise to her faraway thoughts. She had no idea where Sherlock was. Probably off chasing some far-fetched miracle. The rhythm changed, bringing her back to reality.

“Papa?” Nero turned his head from side to side, his half closed eyes looking but not really seeing. 

Irene leaned over the bed and laid her hand on his head, her thumb moving slowly up and down his forehead in what she hoped was a soothing motion. The drugs they had him on sometimes made him delirious. “Papa left to take care of a problem.” Finally, his eyes settled on her, she thought she saw some clarity behind the drug-induced haze they kept him in to reduce his pain. 

“Mummy?” His breathing was raspy as he wheezed out the singular word, his small chest heaving. 

“Yes, Mäuschen.” She gave his small hand a squeeze with her other hand. It felt unbelievably small and bony, his fingers cold from the lack of oxygen. He pulled at the covers on his bed, burrowing further and curling into a ball on his side. She knew before he could even utter the words. 

Pulling her hands back, she felt around the bottom of the guardrail, fingers searching for the release lever that dropped it. She lowered it and stood up, detaching the leads that connected him to the heart monitor, ignoring the warning alarm that went off as she bent over and scooped up her son, careful to mind the IV attached to his skinny arm. He was so small; sure, he had always been thin but now he had nothing softly rounding the sharp angles of his bones.   
Irene sat back down in the rocking chair, cradling and rocking him as she had done when he was an infant. Was that really six years ago? It felt like both yesterday and eternity since she had rocked her son. 

A nurse came rushing in, the look of worry on her face turning to one of disapproval. “Ms. Adler, he really - “   
Irene cut her off with nothing more than a look. Honestly, the heart monitor was nothing more than an annoyance. The nurse walked over to the monitor and turned the alarm off, exiting without a word. 

Irene began humming a lullaby, one from her past. She watched as Nero’s eyes drooped shut. She tucked the blanket around him closer as he curled into her body warmth; a small, bony hand fisting into her shirt.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his voice broke through her thoughts.

“Mummy?” Irene looked down, his eyes were open, looking up at her with slightly more clarity than earlier. 

“Yes, Mäuschen?” She missed being able to push his dark hair away from his eyes. 

“Do you think I’ll be a Lost Boy?” 

“You haven’t fallen out of a pram.” Irene’s eyebrows knit in confusion. Surely, he was still delirious. He wasn’t lost, his parents would never leave him.  
“I know but do you think I could be?”

Worry clawed its’ way up Irene’s throat. She couldn’t fathom why he was thinking such things. Was it because Sherlock wasn’t here? “But Papa and I will always claim you.”

“Yes, but you and Papa won’t be in Neverland. Do you think they’ll let me be a Lost Boy? I won’t grow up and I don’t want to be alone. I know they eventually grow up and leave Neverland but surely new Lost Boys are always showing up. Couldn’t I be Peter Pan’s…lieutenant? Help him acclimate the new Lost Boys?” He looked down and fiddled with the edge of the blanket, as if worried that his idea was ridiculous.

Comprehension finally dawned on Irene. He was more lucid than she thought. Or less, depending on how one looked at it. “I don’t see why not. I imagine he’d find you most helpful.”

“Even though I know more than Peter Pan? The Lost Boys aren’t allowed to know what he doesn’t know and Papa has taught me a lot…and so have you.” She could see the fear in his eyes: the fear of a small boy trying to make sense of the world around him and not seeing a place for himself. As independent as he was, he still relied on those around him to find a place for himself in the universe. Such was the weakness of all human beings.   
Surely she could create some form of logic he could accept, anything to assuage the fear and anxiety he must be feeling. “Do you think this knowledge qualifies you as a grownup?” 

“I don’t feel like other boys my age….” No, he wasn’t like other boys his age. In some ways he was so much more mature than most children but there were also times when Irene was reminded that he was only a six year old boy. 

“But you’re still a boy, yes?” She ran her hand over his forehead before pulling him closer to her. 

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps you could use this knowledge to educate the Lost Boys before they grow up.”

 

“I rather like sharing knowledge.” Contentment passed over his features, his eyelids drooping once more.

“So don’t worry, Nero; you won’t be alone.” She felt him relax further as she continued rocking him, his eyes now fully closed; his head resting against her collarbone, a hand laying on her chest.

“I love you, Mummy.” Irene felt her eyes sting with tears.

“I love you, too, Mäuschen.”


End file.
